


Dispelling Shadows

by Starlithorizon



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Herc isn't always a berk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He'd grown to love her son like his own. He'd been married so many times before, but he had no children, and he found solace in the shape of one Arthur Shappey. As a grown man, Arthur was a strange thing, both friend and son."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dispelling Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessettebayo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessettebayo/gifts).



> Jessettebayo noted a lack of Herc in one of my more aggressively fluffy works, and requested something involving Herc spending time with Arthur and being a dad with him. To put it more eloquently than I would, "There needs to be more daddy!Herc love in the world."  
> These are things that are true.  
> Things are about to get sappy, yo.

Carolyn sighed contentedly as she sank back into the sofa, its cushy softness enveloping her. Snoopadoop was tucked against her side, snoozing happily and warmly. She could just reach out one arm and find her hot tea waiting for her grasp. She had only to turn her head to catch sight of Herc and Arthur moving about the kitchen. She didn't have to do anything at all to hear them.

"It is _four_ tablespoons, right, Arthur?" Herc asked. She heard her boy shuffling about, flipping a few pages in the cookbook they were consulting.

"Um, yes. Yes, four tablespoons. That's not a lot, is it? I think that it would be even more brilliant with five or six!"

She could only imagine her b— _her man she knew_ stealthily adding the appropriate amount of whatever it was they were meant to add and then changing the subject. True to form, she heard him ask for the next ingredient.

She loved Herc (she'd finally admitted to it, and to the berk himself as well), and she loved Arthur, so she was especially pleased that they got on so well. Lord knew Gordon hadn't done much at all with the boy. She was loath to attach the word to Herc, but he truly was a better father to Arthur than Gordon ever was.

* * *

Several months after the Kitchen Incident (Herc didn't at all understand how something so _orange_ had ended up so delicious...or so on the ceiling), the distinguished pilot found himself in a pub with Arthur. He'd asked Carolyn to marry him once already, and she'd turned him down. Of course, that didn't mean that he wouldn't try again, but it did give him a bit of incentive to spend more time with her son.

He genuinely liked Arthur as a person, and as more than just his partner's son. He was just so cheerful that he could lift any bad mood just with exposure. He was startlingly clever about some things, and so much wiser than anyone ever really noticed. Though one wouldn't think it after meeting the fellow, Arthur Shappey was a bit of an expert at people, absurd People Reading Course notwithstanding. And, beyond all of that, he was simply a likable person.

So he ended up inviting Arthur to a pub to do things that people normally did in pubs. Herc ordered himself a pint, and couldn't stop the wry smile when his companion ordered pineapple juice "with one of those little umbrellas that you get in fancy drinks, if you don't mind."

"So...how have you been?" Herc asked a bit awkwardly after a pull of his lager. He rarely found himself struggling to converse with anyone, but he had to admit, this was an odd situation. When would one ever think about Arthur Shappey in a pub, discussing, you know, _pub_ things?

Herc wasn't really one for pubs either, actually. He was just trying (and sort of failing) to find some kind of common ground between himself and the steward.

Said steward launched into a story about his walk from his house to the pub.

"...and Mr Chiari, who owns the flower shop, saw me walking by, so I had to say hullo and ask how his new little puppy was doing. Oh, she is so cute, almost as cute as Snoopadoop! She's teeny-tiny with big brown spots all over, and she already knows so many fun tricks. I tried to teach Snoopadoop some tricks, but they didn't work out too well. I guess it's true, that you really _can't_ teach an old dog new tricks, although Snoopadoop's not _that_ old. But how old is _old_ when you're a dog? Mum says that one human year is equal to seven dog years, and we've had her quite a long time, so I'd imagine she's starting to get on in years. She isn't turning grey or anything, so maybe not. But even _people_ don't always go grey when they go old. My old maths teacher had brown hair, though he was _really_ old. But now that I think about it, that might have been a toupee..."

Herc grinned at his companion. A conversation with Arthur might be many things, but it was never, ever boring.

He did have to admit, though, that he _was_ starting to get bored of the pub thing. He thought briefly about darts, then about billiards, then about how poorly either of those might go.

"Say, Arthur, you're looking a bit bored," he said smoothly, although Arthur hardly ever looked bored, _ever_. "What say you and I go across the street to that Chinese place and get something to eat?"

Arthur finished his pineapple juice and grinned at Herc.

"Sounds great!"

Chinese was an infinitely better idea than the pub. Even if he did partially regret the presence of the chopsticks.

* * *

"Are you going to make me ask you again?"

"No, because I wish you hadn't asked in the first place!"

These words were circling like vultures in the pilot's head, nearly twelve hours after the second failed proposal. He was beginning to doubt...everything. Where was their relationship going if she continually turned him down? He wasn't asking for his _health_. He loved Carolyn, deeply and truly and completely, and he was suddenly afraid that she _didn't_.

The thought sent threads of terror through his veins.

If she didn't love him, at least the way that he loved her, then why on earth why were they still together? It rather felt like she was stringing him along, and he so didn't want that to be the case. But he had to be honest: even if she was, he would follow along blindly until she told him to go away. He wouldn't go away unless she asked, no matter how much it hurt.

Most of it was because he did love her so much, but the rest was due to Arthur, surprisingly enough. He'd grown to love her son like his own. He'd been married so many times before, but he had no children, and he found solace in the shape of one Arthur Shappey. As a grown man, Arthur was a strange thing, both friend and son. Because of this, he wasn't at all surprised when Arthur sat down next to him on the park bench.

"Mum told me what happened," he said after a long silence, both pairs of eyes studying the grey water of the duck pond. There were no ducks this time of year, and the grass was browning slightly.

Herc didn't say anything, just felt his fists tightening against his thighs.

After another century of silence, though, Arthur spoke again.

"Just know that, whatever she says, she _does_ love you."

And those were the words to replace the ones haunting him, bolstering him, spurring him on toward that third and final question to be answered with a quiet yes.

Herc considered Arthur as a friend, a son, and a blessing upon humanity.

* * *

"Is my tie crooked?" Herc asked on that Friday afternoon, sunlight streaming through the windows of the little room he, Douglas, Martin, and Arthur were in. Arthur scrutinised the satiny blue bow-tie round the pilot's neck. He reached out and straightened it, smiling as he did so.

"Not anymore," Arthur answered, and they both grinned.

"Are you about ready?" Martin asked, taking a second to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in his waistcoat.

"Fifth time's the charm," Herc laughed, and even Douglas found himself grinning. Martin flashed a quick grin at the groom and led Douglas out of the room to where the bride was waiting with the others. Arthur took the moment to be a bit sappy, but it was definitely needed.

"Before we go out there, I just wanted to say that I'm glad you didn't give up. I know that I'm kind of old to be calling you dad and all that, but that's what you are to me. More than my own dad, anyway. At the very least, I can call you my friend, and that's more than enough for me. So thank you for that."

Arthur shuffled about a bit awkwardly for a moment, gaze clunking to his feet with a leaden weight. They were too manly at that moment, and too British, so he was surprised when Herc ignored both roadblocks and wrapped him in a warm hug that his own father had never given him.

"I'd be proud to call you my son," Herc said with conviction and kindness when he released Arthur. He couldn't really help it if he felt his eyes go just a little bit misty at that.

"I'd be proud to call you my dad."

So, with the words spoken between them, the makeshift father and son went out of the little room and Herc and Carolyn each added a new wedding ring to their collections.

These ones, however, as Arthur knew in his heart of hearts, were forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Word processor hates Herc and Snoopadoop pretty equally, and that just strikes me as absolutely hilarious. I'm still laughing.


End file.
